


falling, falling

by Piyo13



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Canon Compliant, M/M, Poe Dameron Being a Little Shit, Poe Dameron in general actually this fic takes a very close narrative distance, Vague references to canon backstory sprinkled throughout, contains spoilers for TFA but I'm assuming if you're here then you've seen the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5665774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Piyo13/pseuds/Piyo13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe makes it out of the First Order's clutches in one piece, which in and of itself is nothing short of a miracle. Or, well, he says 'one piece', but it's hard to place physical value on mental capacities and anyways, he's got other things to worry about than dealing with the aftermath of psychic Force-torture. </p><p>Such as that cute ex-Stormtrooper who saved Poe's life, his droid, and most of his jacket. </p><p>Unfortunately (fortunately? He's not really sure) for Poe, Finn knows what Kylo Ren is capable of, and he's determined to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. flyby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /ˈflībī/ - noun - a flight past a point, especially the close approach of a spacecraft to a planet or moon for observation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> many many grateful thanks to [nightquills](http://nightquills.tumblr.com/) for beta-reading and making my mess of a writing style legible :'D

Kylo Ren storms out of the room, and Poe collapses into his restraints, utterly spent. He's fairly certain his limbs are shaking, but the metal cuffs encasing his arms hold him upright. He can feel something—some liquid—oozing down the back of his neck. Blood? Sweat? He hopes it's sweat, because blood might not come out of his leather jacket, but even worse than the idea of his jacket being stained is the feeling in his head.

Kylo Ren hadn't touched him. Poe knows this because his eyes had been focused on Ren's fingers, clad in black leather gloves, where they hovered too close for comfort, but never actually _touching_ him. And yet he feels like he's taken three sucker punches to the head, all at the same time.

He remembers—he remembers remembering, but it hurt—he'd tried to resist—like the Resistance, ha—but then he'd felt—

—awful.

He still feels awful, still feels the lingering mind-touches of Kylo Ren's that had brushed past Poe's mental barriers like they were nothing; there's nausea and vertigo, and if this is what some people experience while flying, Poe can even forgive them for preferring their feet on the ground.

He'd throw up, but that would ruin his jacket, so he settles for trembling into the cuffs and trying not to make his tears too obvious.

He's only left alone for five minutes before he hears footsteps, the distinctive clack of Stormtrooper boots on metal flooring.

"Ren wants the prisoner." The voice is filtered through the helmet, sounding exactly like all the others.

The 'trooper comes around, into Poe's field of vision, and Poe wants to sneer, wants to show them he's not broken but— _that's not the truth, is it? Ren knows, now._ So Poe slumps a little further, tries for a sarcastic smile that probably looks more like a grimace, and almost falls to the floor when the restraints are suddenly opened.

Then there's a hand fisted into his jacket and shirt at the nape of his neck, a blaster snuggled up to his ribs, and Poe summons the last of his willpower to keep his legs moving in pace with the Stormtrooper, lest he be dragged. Though, honestly, if he's going to die, he should probably make it as bothersome for the First Order as he possibly can.

 _Damn_ them.

Poe stumbles a bit when the hand at his back jerks sideways. "Turn here," says the Stormtrooper's mechanized voice, and Poe plays catch-up with the ground for a second before righting himself and turning into a small, narrow hallway that, honestly, doesn't look like it's leading anywhere.

Maybe it's a trash chute. He heard once that General Organa and her companions had to fight their way out of one, back in the days of the Empire—maybe the First Order is taking some cues, a new execution method, and if that's the case that's probably the kind of information the General _would_ like to know, but if that _is_ the case then Poe's dead anyways so it's not of any use—

The Stormtrooper stops, and so Poe stops too. Maybe the entrance to the garbage compactor is closer than he'd thought.

"Listen carefully: you do exactly as I say, and I can get you out of here."

Poe blinks. That was unexpected, to say the least. Ren must have messed with his mind more than he thought, to be hearing things this badly. Still, he can't help but make sure he did hear correctly—"If—what?"

Then, even more unexpectedly, the Stormtrooper takes his helmet off. Poe isn't sure what he even expected Stormtroopers to look like under the glaringly white armor, but this isn't it.

"This is a rescue, I'm helping you escape. Can you fly a TIE fighter?" the Stormtrooper asks, deadly serious. Poe wonders if he should tell him that the whole intimidation thing definitely works better with the helmet on, but then his brain—or what's left of it, at any rate—catches up to him, and he blinks twice, and frowns.

"You with the Resistance—?"

The Stormtrooper looks confused now, and Poe's just glad they appear to be on the same page in that sense, at least. "What?" he exclaims, looking at Poe like he's crazy. Hell, he probably _is_ crazy, because there's no way this is anything but a tripped out, post-mind-invasion dream, anyways. "No, no, no! I'm breaking you out! Can you fly a TIE fighter?" the Stormtrooper insists, surprisingly earnestly for, well, a Stormtrooper.

"I can fly anything," Poe says, more on reflex than anything else. Then, because he still feels a bit too lost, "Why, why are you helping me?"

The Stormtrooper looks at him for a moment before leaning in slightly. "Because it's the right thing to do."

Poe calls bullshit.

"You need a pilot," he counters, unable to completely hide his smile as he pieces things together. So the Stormtrooper isn't Resistance—is he even a Stormtrooper? Maybe a crafty prisoner from who-knows-where?—but that's okay, because he needs Poe, and that means the trash compactor can wait another day.

"I need a pilot," the Stormtrooper replies, looking relieved. And nervous. That's a good sign, Poe thinks, because if he's nervous then it means he's serious about getting away, which is a good thing because then that means he's serious about getting _Poe_ away—Poe grins, widely.

"We're gonna do this," he says, and he's not sure if he's talking more to himself or the Stormtrooper, but the Stormtrooper half-smiles, half-grimaces at him, and looks far too hopeful given that they're still dead center in a Star Destroyer and surrounded by _other_ troops, most likely slightly more bent on killing them. But hey, the kid seems like he's got a plan, and any plan is better than being a dragged to his execution, so Poe might as well go along with it.

And besides, even if it _is_ a trap—as though Poe hasn't had his mind fucked with enough for one day, not that he'd put anything past Kylo Ren at this point—it's not like Poe's prospects were looking up at all, anyways. The slight adrenaline rush that comes with openly defying the First Order is not entirely unwelcome either, as far as analgesics go.

The next few minutes are a bit of a blur, to be honest. There's lasers, cannons, and a couple of blasters just for good measure, and then Poe's flying a TIE fighter while a panicked (ex-?)Stormtrooper tries to figure out the gunning controls. Poe thinks about fastening himself in, but the thought of being restrained again sets him on edge, so he doesn't, and at some point he finds himself giving the Stormtrooper—FN-string-of-numbers, seriously, how does the First Order even get _away_ with that shit?—a name—Finn, good to meet you, buddy—and BB-8 needs to be picked up before Ren gets there—then there's more laser shots and they're falling, falling, and Poe isn't strapped in and wasn't that just _stupid_ of him, and at some point he's aware of Finn ejecting his seat, but Poe stays and gathers the controls well enough to set the TIE fighter down on a flattish bit of sand there, and then—and then he passes out, and that's that.

 

Somehow—and he really, _really_ doesn't know _how_ —he manages not only to not die, but also to convince a Jakku native to take him to a big enough city that he can message the Resistance. Once he's on board a ship headed to D'Qar, Poe finally gives in to his body and promptly passes out. Again.

 

He wakes up to the General sitting at his bedside and a splitting headache. He thinks his shoulder might be bruised, too, 'cause it twinges a bit where it's in contact with the medical cot, but all things considered that's not too serious an injury. Poe blinks a couple of times—the General is immersed in reading a report of some kind, so she hasn't even noticed that he's awake yet—and then memories come rushing back (strangely filtered, but Poe'll deal with that later).

"BB-8—the map—General, I—"

"Welcome back, Dameron," she says, cutting him off with her usual efficiency. Poe shuts up. He pulls himself into a sitting position, steadying himself even as his vision swims a bit. "We received word that Tuanul was destroyed, its people massacred. We feared the worst for you."

"Ma'am," Poe says, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "BB-8 has the map, I directed him to run as far as he could, so that the First Order wouldn't get it. But the First Order—they—" Poe pauses, and the General remains silent. He clears his throat, takes another breath, and resolves to force his headache away through sheer power of will, if that's what it takes. "They captured me, and Kylo Ren—" Just thinking about what Ren did raises the hair on Poe's arms, a feeling only exacerbated by General Organa's presence. He'd known Ben once, just as she had—erm, maybe a bit less well than she had, but, well, anyways. "Kylo Ren extracted information about BB-8 from my mind. I escaped with the aid of—of a Stormtrooper, named FN-something, but I told him he should use the name Finn instead, and he liked that idea so his name is Finn, and he organized everything. He just needed a pilot, but then we got—we got shot, I think. We must've crashed," Poe says with a frown, because he honestly can't remember. He remembers Finn, though.

She regards him, her expression hard to read, then nods once, and returns to her report. They sit in silence for a moment.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, not really looking up from her holopad. Poe frowns.

"Fine. I think my shoulder's a bit bruised, but other than that, I’m perfectly fine." He's lying through his teeth, but he hopes the General won't notice. She's frowning at her holopad, and she looks tired.

Poe shakes his head slightly, trying to dislodge the headache—it doesn't work, not that he was expecting it to, so he'll have to ask the General later if she knows any remedies for Force-and-trauma-induced headaches—and resolves to put up a strong front for the moment. Clearly it's what she needs of him, right now, as a Commander.

"Flight ready, if you need me," he prompts, and really, if he'd been lying before, this one takes the cake. No way should he be piloting under these conditions, but—he's been through worse, right? Probably. Whatever, he can take it. Whatever the cause of his lingering most-likely-brain-damage, it can’t be worse than that one time he went on a mission with a head cold and a sore throat.

General Organa looks up, finally, and regards Poe with a piercing gaze, and in that moment Poe's sure she's going to confine him to bed for a week, which—well, okay, maybe wouldn't be the _worst_ , but _someone_ has to wrangle the Resistance pilots, and that someone is Poe because—because _reasons_ , damnit. That's his _job._

"Medical says you're fine. Physically." The way she says the last word has Poe fidgeting, because it's so painfully obvious that she sees right through him. "So if you agree with their assessment—and I mean if and only if, Dameron—" and there's a glare that could kill a man, possibly a Hutt, too, if it came down to it—"then we've just received word that your BB unit has been spotted on Takodana."

"On Takodana?!" That's not altogether too far. But why—

"Yes. Along with, if the newest reports are correct, an influx of First Order ships."

Poe swings his legs off the side of his bed, pleased to note that nothing pulls in a way that would be detrimental to his flying. The shoulder bruise is workable, the headache is _not even existing_ —"Let me take a squadron."

The General considers this. “Dameron…” she begins, trailing off slightly, and Poe sees reluctance in her gaze, but he also sees an opening, and he takes it.

“General, I’m fine. Really.” He gets off the bed, blacks out for a little bit—that’ll have to be dealt with later, he’s busy now—and waves his arms around a bit. His shoulder twinges, but that’s the least of his problems. No headache to speak of. “See? Perfectly flightworthy.” Once again Poe’s not sure if he’s addressing himself more than someone else, but whatever the case, the General doesn’t look convinced, so he tries again.

“General Organa, I’m one of the best pilots you have—and I say that with full humility—and out there on Takodana is a BB unit that has the map to _Luke Skywalker_ , and it’s _my_ BB unit, and if there’s First Order presence you know I’m one of the best shots out there, so—” Poe hesitates for a moment, unsure of how low he wants to go—but this is BB-8 on the line, here, so— “the Resistance is short pilots to begin with, you know that, and you also know that, given my skillset, you _need_ me out there. As Black Leader.”

General Organa raises an eyebrow. “You know, some would cite that as a reason to keep you grounded.”

“General, please. The longer we wait, the more danger BB-8 is in. The more danger the _map_ is in.”

The General sighs again, but Poe can see it in her face that he’s won this round. It’s a bitter victory. She looks hesitant for a moment, and then she speaks again. "You should also know that the First Order has destroyed the capital planets of the Republic."

Poe decides, in that moment, that maybe Kylo Ren fucked with his mind a bit worse than he'd imagined. There's no way—entire _planets_ —"They destroyed…?"

The General's curt nod, her lips pressed tightly together, is all the answer Poe needs to know that this is real. "We're working on getting specs, at the moment—so far all we know is that it's a planet transformed into a Death Star, named Starkiller Base."

She stops and collects herself, looking away, and Poe remembers that she had to witness the destruction of _her_ home planet to the Death Star, and he can't even imagine what that would be _like_ , for Yavin IV to suddenly be _gone_ , and he used to work in the Republic from time to time, and now it's _gone—_? Poe doesn't feel like the full magnitude has hit him yet.

Best focus on the little things for now.

BB-8 first. Investigate Finn's disappearance (death?) afterwards. See about medical care for the headache. Good, he's got a plan. Plans are good.

"I'll take a squadron to Takodana."

"Good luck, Commander," the General says, using the title in a way that he knows is meant to convey that she's extra serious.

Poe salutes sharply. "Yes, ma'am."

Poe heads towards the doors of the med bay—thankfully he hasn’t been dressed down to a medical gown, though he _is_ missing his jacket. Shame, that, really; he'd had that jacket for years, and it had been a good luck charm of sorts, a sense of stability throughout his various moves and promotions. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't feel a little bare, heading towards the hangar without it—of course, worse than that is the lack of BB-8 at his heels, and that droid _better_ be in one piece, or else Poe will tear apart the galaxy, psychological damage be _damned_ —but he’s already mentally filing away the comm numbers of everyone he'll need to gather when the General calls to him.

"Poe," she says, leveling him with a stare. "Don't be foolish."


	2. gravitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /ˌɡravəˈtāSH(ə)n/ - noun - movement toward or attraction to something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta'd because if I don't post it now it will never be posted, mostly because of who I am as a person

The battle on Takodana—skirmish on Takodana, there's not enough pushback for it to be a _battle_ , after all, not a single pilot is lost—goes well. _Really_ well. Poe and his squad—bless them—fly literal loops around the First Order ships, shooting them down only after their need for showing off has been assuaged.

The flying is good; despite the jostling, Poe's head feels clearer and he feels more centered than he has since he got captured on Jakku an indeterminate number of days ago.

He doesn't hesitate as he pushes the trigger button, even though Finn flashes through his mind, because really, any one of these Stormtroopers could have been Finn, and if Finn had been shot then Poe would be worse off than he is now—not that he's badly off, ha ha, not at all—but Poe pummels the trigger and watches white-armored bodies crash to the floor.

At least it's painless.

There's few enough of them left on the ground, anyways, when the black Y-wing takes off. Poe and his team pursue it to the upper atmosphere, but as it beams to hyperspace, he calls off the hunt. It's headed straight back to the _Finalizer_ , anyways, and the casualties they'd incur chasing it to the source—not worth it, not by any stretch of the imagination.

No matter how sweet the personal vendetta would be—Poe's _certain_ Kylo Ren is aboard. But Poe has a duty and he'll be damned if he won't do it.

Also, BB-8 is down there, on Takodana. Has to be.

The General radios right before Poe goes in for a landing.

" _Dameron, the droid is safely in our care, we will all head back to D'Qar now."_

And even though everything aches to see BB-8 again, to know that his decision to tell BB-8 to run and take the map and get as far away as possible—Poe wonders, privately, in a deep hidden corner of his mind, what the General thought of his plan, given that it was her he was emulating—Poe acknowledges the command.

"Yes ma'am. Black Team, Blue Team, you heard the General, we're headed back to base." There's a smattering of 'yessirs' and 'yes ma'ams' following the order, and then the light blurs into streams as they jump to hyperspace.

Thankfully, they're not too far, and Poe only spends a few minutes aimlessly staring into the surprisingly bright void. He'd remembered it darker, when Kylo—no. Poe manages, _somehow_ , to focus for the remainder of his flight, bringing _Black One_ down to a landing so smooth and soft it might as well have been a kiss.

Poe hears a familiar _chirp-wirrup_ as he exits the X-wing—there's a momentary black spot in his vision—suspiciously glove-shaped, but only suspiciously so, because to say definitely so would imply that Poe is seeing things and Poe is _not_ seeing things—as he hands off his helmet to a flight attendant, and he banishes all thoughts of gloves from his mind, kneeling down because _there is BB-8_ —

"Buddy!" Poe says overjoyed, and BB-8 makes a happy _whirr_. "I'm so glad you're safe! I thought the worst, when I couldn't come and find you—but how did you get here from Jakku?"

_Poe-Friend: hello! You are uninjured! That is good! Scavenger-Rey-Friend helped me on Jakku. Saved me from Bad-Scavenger. Scavenger-Rey-Friend tried to get Poe-Friend-Jacket back from Not-Poe-But-Friend but Not-Poe-But-Friend offered help back to Resistance-Base and then we met Han-Organa-Friend and Han-Organa-Friend and Chewbacca-Friend took us to Planet-Takodana and we met Maz-Kanata-Ally but then First-Order-Ememy[Scum] came and First-Order-Enemy[Scum] took Scavenger-Rey-Friend away and then Resistance-Forces arrived and we came back here to Resistance-Base and Not-Poe-But-Friend and Han-Organa-Friend and Chewbacca-Friend are all here as well! I missed you, Poe-Friend!_

Poe frowns, feeling like he should be connecting some dots here, only it feels a lot like his pen just ran out and he's trying to draw lines by sheer force of will alone, but then BB-8 turns a little and Poe follows her line of sight and _oh, OH_ —

Poe gets up in a rush, running over and basically crashing into Finn—and okay, so the crashing into part wasn't completely planned and is more a result of Poe's legs refusing to cooperate completely with what his brain is (hopefully) telling them to do, but the resulting hug is nice. Very nice.

"You're alive!" Finn exclaims, and in the throes of post-battle high, Finn's exuberance spreads to Poe as well, and he finds his feet with a certain degree of certainty after that. Or maybe it's just that Poe really _is_ that happy to see Finn, which, logically, he should be, Finn having _saved him from torture_ and all that.

"So're you!" Poe shoots back, and both their grins get wider.

"What happened to you?" Finn says, grin abruptly fading. The question catches Poe a bit off-guard—admittedly, his guard isn't really that sharp at the moment, but still. He blinks once, mentally shakes himself, and draws a large breath.

"What happened? I got thrown from the crash, woke up at night—no you, no ship, nothing—" BB-8 nudges his calf, and Poe breaks off, looking down.

_Not-Poe-But-Friend also helped[eventually] me, not just Scavenger-Rey-Friend._

Poe turned back to Finn, and he's slightly aware of his mouth hanging open in awe for a moment before he snaps it shut.

"BB-8 says you saved her."

"No, no, no. It wasn't just me," Finn immediately deflects, tilting his head away slightly, and Poe feels a burst of warmth in his chest that is, for the moment, going to go unanalyzed. Nonetheless, Poe can't have his _savior_ go on without taking credit for what he's done. He reaches forward—somehow, one of his hands has been lingering on Finn's elbow this entire time—and places a hand on Finn's shoulder, and taps Finn's chest with the other.

"You _completed_ my _mission_ , Finn." And then, funnily enough he notices exactly what it is Finn's wearing, does a double-take, and frowns in shock and confusion. Of all things to survive the crash—"That's my jacket!"

A guilty expression flashes briefly across Finn's face before he makes to shrug out of the jacket. "Oh, here," he says, and it takes a second before Poe scrambles to grab the lapels and pull it back onto Finn, his hands smoothing the jacket down so it sits _just so_ —

"No, no, no. Keep it." Four days ago, had someone told Poe he was going to be giving away his jacket— _his jacket_ , the only possession he values more is Black One (and BB-8 above that, but he likes to think of BB-8 more as a _friend_ than a _possession_ , anyways)—he'd've told them they'd gotten a little too far into the bottle. And yet, here he is, hands still pressing softly against Finn's chest, definitely longer than necessary—"It suits you," he hears himself say.

He bites his lip because—and okay, this is _definitely_ the non-existent headache talking—Finn looks _damn good_. As in, his face does, not just the jacket—but actually, Poe's stopping that train of thought _right now._

"You're a good man, Finn." Well, _mostly_ shutting down that train of thought.

Finn seems to take this in, staring openly at Poe for a second, then shakes himself and says, "Poe—I need your help."

Poe's already nodding even before Finn's finished talking. "Of course, what can I do for you?"

Finn bites his lip for a second, Poe tries not to die because of it—Jess would absolutely never let him hear the end of _that_ one, even in the afterlife—and then Finn says, "I need to speak with the General. Or… whoever's in charge. There's—there's a girl, Rey, she's been taken and we need to rescue her—"

"The girl… who helped BB-8?"

Finn nods, and Poe slaps him lightly on the shoulder. "Follow me," he says, and begins leading Finn through the base.

The meeting is a blur, and quite frankly Poe has no idea how anything ended up being decided—there was a lot of waiting, a lot of shouting, some staring down of a hologram of Starkiller Base, dredging up of dirty memories of the Death Star, and Poe's trying to keep track of various lines of thought and action and trying not to feel too scared at the knowledge that if Kylo Ren and his mind fuckery is anywhere, it'll be there, on Starkiller, right where he's just volunteered to scramble a squadron to. General Organa makes eye contact with him, her eyes squinted and an eyebrow raised, and Poe understands the implicit question she's asking.

Poe's fine, he's just fine. Perfectly ready for command.

(Besides, gnawing pit of fear aside, he feels _entitled_ to taking the fight to the First Order—he's got personal vengeance on his plate now, not only just ideological differences and the destruction of a planetary system.)

He sees Finn on the tarmac, as he half-walks-half-runs to Black One, and pats him on the shoulder, half-laughing as the adrenaline of imminent attack starts to course through him. At a certain level he's scared for Finn—Finn, who saved him, Finn, who is going back to the people who had him under their control for this long—but mostly he's just energized. It's always exhilarating before and during takeoff, feeling the freedom of space in the hum of Black One's engines, letting memories and thoughts of past events fade away because flying has always been the best therapy, hasn't it?—and BB-8 whirring and chirping and calculating courses for him—

They hover in orbit until both Red and Blue Squads have joined him, and then, on the General's command, they hit hyperspace, stars blurring into streaking lines beside them. They travel for several minutes, slowing down to the slowest warp possible as they approach Starkiller, unsure of what the shield-status is. Finally, Poe's comms crackle.

" _Black Leader, go to sub-lights. On your call._ " Poe lets BB-8 activate his own outgoing comms and direct it to all squad members as well as base, and speaks.

"Roger, base –Red Squad, Blue Squad, take my lead." And then he stops transmission and gives BB-8 the signal.

They jump out of hyperspace, Poe gives his orders for a full attack, and his squadron complies. It takes a few seconds, during which they get in a good pass with their forward blasters, but then the First Order catches on and TIE fighters are sent to counteract them.

Now that Poe knows how they work first-hand, they're slightly less intimidating—they're a bit faster than an X-wing, but that speed comes at the price of maneuverability in the face of their pilots being biological organisms instead of robots. So if he can outmaneuver them—and he can, of course he can, he's _Poe fucking Dameron_ and his mother didn't raise him to not be able to out-fly some First Order cronies—then he has the upper hand. He resolutely doesn't think about the people _in_ the fighters as he loops up and around, shooting two out of the sky in a graceful arc; they're not Finn, he reminds himself, even as part of him wonders and asks that even if they're not Finn, how many are there among the ranks that wish they were? Wish they could get out?

The red of his blasters leaves impressions on his eyes, and for a moment the red blips blend together into a longer, single red line, and then there's a glowing crossguard illuminating—barely—a dark figure behind it—and then there's a pulse of green fire and Poe reacts on instinct, letting his X-wing drop through the air, neatly avoiding the enemy shot. Poe shakes his head, willing himself to focus, _focus_.

He shoots down two more TIE fighters before he hears some commotion over the comms and—

—no, fuck, Furillo is down.

A small fireball collides with the base, and Poe watches it for as long as he can spare, distraught.

There are few things he doesn't like about his job, but this. This is one of the worst. Watching pilots under his command, people _he ordered_ to fly—watching them die is terrifying.

Not terrifying in the pants-shittingly terrifying way that seeing a planet-turned-Death-Star's specs on screen, knowing you're the next target is pants-shittingly terrifying, but every mission that they lose someone, Poe doesn't sleep for nights afterwards ( _he could lose—anyone. Everyone?_ ).

Or, well, he does sleep, but it's a fine line between "sleep" and "drunken stupor" and as intoxicated as he's been in the past he's treated that fine line with all the delicacy of a dying runyip. Jess'd made a point of telling him so afterwards, once, and he's got nothing to disprove her.

Poe takes a deep breath and keeps flying, keeps fighting, because sometimes, that's all that can be done.

The furor over the comms gets more intense the longer they're flying around, and they lose three more people. It doesn’t even seem like there's been any progress made, the oscillator they're supposed to be destroying still hale and whole as anything. In the meantime, the maneuvers they're having to pull in order to keep their X-wings—larger in mass and wingspan than the smaller TIEs—out of firing range have them pulling dangerously close to walls and buttresses and they're still raking everything with fire but it's _not working_ —

" _We just lost Red One!"_ Niv Lek shouts, and Poe swallows back a curse for the fourth time. As Commander he can't lose his composure, not while they still have a strategy that needs to be followed.

" _We're overwhelmed!"_ Jess states, shooting down two fighters at once even as she says so. " _What do we do? It isn't working!"_

Poe wishes Jess would just shut up, but then again it's _Jess_ and he values her friendship precisely because she doesn't ever try to sugarcoat things. But they can all see the obvious—then an explosion's shockwave rocks Black One under him, and Poe does a quick barrel roll to get a better view.

" _Black Leader, there's a brand new hole in that oscillator! Looks like our friends got in!"_

Poe feels a surge of unidentifiable emotion at those words—it's Finn, Finn and Han Solo, must be those two. Poe allows himself a moment to bask in the feeling, and then starts snapping out orders to his crew, signaling to BB-8 to get auxiliary weapons systems online in addition to the main ones.

"Red Four! Red Six! Cover us!"

_"I'm on it!"_

_"Roger!"_

"Everybody else, hit the target hard! Give it everything you got!" And they're off. Poe and his team dive in, and he's conscious of them as blips on his viewscreen, but nothing beyond that—he's in that unique mindset where time seems slower and longer and it's just him and the air , and they're hitting the oscillator as hard as they can, the explosions only adding to the destruction that was already there—

—someone else gets knocked out of commission and all Poe registers is a voice in his comms and an explosion and a sudden, startlingly fierce wave of _rage_ that clouds over him and he makes up his mind in that instant that he is going to _finish_ this.

"All teams—I'm going in! Pull up and cover me!"

 _"Copy that, Black Leader!"_ comes the acknowledgement. And then, dropping the guise that they're all professionals, _"Good luck, Poe_."

The others peel away and it's just Poe and BB-8 and Black One and the oscillator, and they fly several loops around the inside, guns literally blazing as they hit everything they can see. The maneuvers are exhilarating, and pushing Black One to her limits, but when the loudest explosion yet sounds from under them, it's all worth it.

Poe flies out the way he came, and is greeted by triumphant crowing from his team and an order from base to head home, everyone's safe.

Exhausted, heart still pounding and vision still narrowed from the fight, Poe complies without even the slightest backtalk, what remains of his team doing the same.

 

'Everyone's safe' apparently means different things to different people, Poe finds out after waking up from almost fifteen solid hours of surprisingly dreamless sleep—he also has no recollection of ever having _gone_ to sleep, so for all he knows they drugged him on the tarmac in a (probably justified, if he's being honest) effort to get him off his feet—to the knowledge that Finn is in a coma and Rey has left D'Qar.

Poe does _not_ immediately head out in search for the General in order to give her (and everyone else who was back at base who ordered his and his team's retreat as Starkiller collapsed) a dressing down about the meaning of 'everyone' and 'safe'. He doesn't, but it's a near thing—so he settles for shooting everyone involved dirty looks the first few times he passes them in the hallways.

He drops the dirty looks for a bit when Karé comes to find him, asking what should be done, both about those pilots who lost family in the Hosnian system and the families that lost pilots on Starkiller. Poe loses himself in paperwork and death notifications. Each signature he puts to a holopad is a small lamentation of its own.

Eventually he runs out of letters to compose. He files them all away neatly—the General, for one, will need to sign them later as well. Poe runs a hand through his hair, his temples pounding.

It's time for a flight. Just to clear his head a bit. Funny, that he's never felt more grounded than he does when he's in the sky.

The dirty looks return and intensify once Poe learns he's grounded, literally—"General's orders, not allowed in any flying vehicle"—and at that point he actually _does_ go track down the General herself and give her a dressing-down. She takes it rather calmly, informs Poe he's been tortured, and further elaborates that the grounding is only for two weeks so that he can actually recover. This last is said with a pointed enough raise of the eyebrow that Poe has no choice but to give in and acquiesce.

He's about to take his leave when he pauses at the door, and turns back to face the General. She looks more tired than he can ever remember seeing her. "We mourn with you, General Organa."

She nods at him, collected as ever, and he's reminded all at once that she was—that she _is_ —royalty. "Thank you. Likewise, I mourn with you, Commander."

Poe nods back, and then leaves before he can do something as asinine as start bawling in the General's office.

 

With the sky barred to him, Poe takes to wandering aimlessly. He visits as many of his pilots as he can, comforts those who let him, and leaves to grieve in peace those who don't. He visits Finn, as well, and ends up sitting at his bedside for hours, first in silence and then talking, telling him stories and jokes and anything that comes to mind, really.

The talking helps keep the hallucinations at bay.

 

He wakes with a shout to a medical droid hovering close to him. He's drenched in cold sweat, his heart beating triple-time, and pain piercing his head. The droid tilts its head and chirps a worried sequence; it takes Poe a few moments of controlling his breathing, but eventually he gets to the point where he can ask the droid for a cup of water.

Finn's still asleep by the time Poe finishes the glass, and Poe adjusts the sheets around him, smoothing them down, just like he'd smoothed down the now-destroyed jacket, one day? Two days? An eternity ago? Poe looks at Finn for a moment, then leaves. He waves off the confused medical droid, and then waves off the thought that someone, somewhere, had made the decision to allow him to stay asleep at Finn's bedside.

That's not important right now; right now Poe just wants to get away. He wanders out to the hangars, bypassing the two guards stationed out there (they're for show more than anything, especially in the wake of the First Order's recent and catastrophic loss) and making his way out to Black One. He tinkers with a few of her panels for a bit, for familiarity's sake more than anything else, but soon not even the smell of grease and fighter oil can distract him, and he risks damaging Black One if he's not paying attention.

So he packs up, cleans up, and wanders further, to the farthest edge of the base, where the tarmac meets the D'Qar forest. There's a small path there, barely visible, but Poe follows it the few meters to the crest of the nearby hill. On top there grows a large tree; Poe doesn't know what kind, but it's big and green and its trunk is at least two of Poe's armswidths wide and it reminds him achingly of _home_.

There's a view, too, a small opening in the leaves that bares the starry, endless night. That it's secluded but not too far from the base that Poe wouldn't hear the call to scramble if he needed to is just a bonus. The sounds of the night—so different from on Yavin IV, and yet with that universally soothing quality that undisturbed nocturnal life carries—wrap around him, and as Poe sits down at the base of the tree and gazes up at the stars, he feels the beginnings of tension loosing.

 

It becomes a pattern, after that. He spends his days filing paperwork and visiting his friends and his pilots and his droid, and he spends his evenings visiting Finn and tinkering with Black One until he can't take it anymore. Then he heads out to the big tree at the edge of the base, and sits there with the night sounds and the stars until he falls asleep or the sun begins to rise.

Rinse and repeat.

And, miraculously, its working—his nightmares are less intense, his non-existent headache really is non-existent, and the hallucinations have completely stopped.

Finn wakes up about a week into the routine, to everyone's joy. There's more talking and less paperwork those days, though by the end Poe still excuses himself to his X-wing and his tree (he leaves behind strict instructions for Jess and Snap, though, on the proper manner in which to introduce Finn to things such as alcohol, and makes sure BB-8 stays behind as an enforcer).

It's been almost two weeks, now, and Poe is looking forward to finally being able to fly again. When he sits under the big tree he misses home, but he misses the sky even more. He _misses_ it. He wonders if maybe he shouldn't, given all the times he's nearly died and others really _have_ died in the cockpit of a fighter, but. But he does, all the same.

He pulls his knees up to his chest as the thought crashes over him again, all the people he will never see again. Furillo, Ello Atsy, Bastian, Niv Lek, too many others…

He pulls his knees tighter, curling his arms around them. He realizes, suddenly, what the feeling of melancholy in his chest is, that feeling that's making him miss home—he's lonely. He realizes this even as a raucous cheer goes up from the nearest building, surely the remaining pilots getting as drunk as they can manage. He can't fault them for their coping strategies, not really.

Slowly, regulating his breathing the whole while, Poe uncurls himself so he's sitting cross-legged with his back against the tree. Rationally, he knows he could go and talk to Snap or Jess or Iolo or Karé, but each of them is suffering their own grief and… he doesn't want to add to it. Or add to his own. He has enough to worry about, between the last lingering vestiges of mind-torture and the added emotional weight of his pilots; and he's been trying not to think too hard about the Republic, not just yet, because death on that scale takes more to process than Poe's able to give right now.

He's lost enough in thought that he jumps when he hears a footfall. He turns, accusing, but any hard feelings fade away when he realizes who it is.

"Finn."

"Hi, Poe. I… saw you come out here… I guess I wanted to see where you were going. Sorry for intruding." Finn looks abashed, and makes as if to leave.

"No, no, you don't have to leave. Stay. Sit," Poe gestures to a spot of clearish earth next to him, and after a moment's hesitation, Finn comes closer and sits down, shoulder brushing Poe's and his back against the tree. They sit in silence for several minutes, merely taking in their surroundings together. Poe adjusts to the sound of another human breathing beside him—he doesn't mind, not at all, and the warmth he feels where their shoulders touch is comforting.

"Are you… are you okay?" Finn finally asks, breaking the silence, and the words feel tentative, almost like he's not sure whether it's an acceptable thing to ask or not.

Poe considers his answer, and shrugs a little as he does so. "I lost a lot of people. My pilots, my friends… we know the risks, but it's still awful. Thinking that we'll never be able to see each other again. Even now, two weeks out…"

Finn lets out a low hum, but doesn't actually say anything. They sit in silence, Poe mulling over the thoughts of his lost pilots-in-arms, when suddenly it hits him. Rey's gone, Han's _gone_ , and Chewie went with Rey—Finn must feel even more alone than Poe does.

He's not really sure how to address this, but in the end what comes out is: "I'm sorry."

Finn startles, looking at him in askance. "What?"

"You've lost everything," Poe replies, shrugging again and resolutely not making eye contact with Finn, even though it would be hard to do so anyways because of how dark it is.  Out of his periphery, he sees Finn turn his head away.

"Wasn't good things," he mumbles, and Poe realizes that, not only has he lost everyone he's known since his escape, but everything he'd known _before_ then, too. And no, it might not have been good things, but that's still a loss and. Damn. He should have known better.

"No, it wasn't, and I'm immeasurably glad you're here with m—with us, but… still. You've lost a lot. It's tough."

Finn does the little hum thing again, but then neither of them talks, content to let the wildlife of D'Qar softly fill the nighttime sound-scape for them.

"He invaded your mind. With the Force." It's a statement, not a question, when it comes. Finn's not looking at Poe, but his eyes are fixed on the shrubby forest in front of them and Poe half-wonders if the bushes are going to melt under the intensity of that gaze. He kind of hopes not, because he likes the aesthetic of them. Then Finn stops looking at the bushes and starts looking at Poe instead, and now it's Poe's turn to try and melt plant life.

"Yes," he says, finally, after what was probably no more than a few seconds but still feels like an age. Out of the corner of his eye Poe sees Finn nod, but now that he's started thinking about it, the words don't want to stop, so Poe keeps going, still staring at the bush and half-heartedly wondering if the bush even realizes.

"It's… at the time, and immediately after, it felt like… like you've got a migraine, and then airsickness on top of that, and then also managed to get a concussion. And, for a while—and don't tell medical, I promised them I was fine—but, erm, I was… hallucinating, I guess. I'd keep getting random flashbacks, seeing… seeing his glove, or his mask, or the feeling when he froze me with the Force back on Jakku, or… I don't know. It's… a bit better, now, though. I'm not in pain anymore, or anything, and I'm not seeing things—but… I have nightmares almost every night." Poe draws a deep breath, then leans his head back to rest against the tree-trunk. "And it still… it still feels like there's a part of my mind that's not… not _right._ It doesn't fit properly, I dunno. And it feels like it'll never get better."

Poe closes his eyes and sighs. Finn doesn't say anything, but Poe feels him scoot a bit closer, until their shoulders are brushing.

Poe finds he doesn't mind at all.

They sit like that for a few minutes, the soft breeze occasionally rustling through the trees and humming through the lines of X-wings at their back, but aside from them, there's no one there. Poe continues to take deep breaths, and that—coupled with the admission of… well, it's not exactly a _dark secret_ or anything, but he hasn't even told Jess—though, to be fair, that's probably because she'd go straight to medical first thing—but. It's… a relief, he thinks. The silence around them is, at first, welcoming, and Poe appreciates it, especially given the speed with which his thoughts are racing, but then it becomes… _too_ silent. Too quiet, too dark, and it feels like even the animal noises out there have died off a bit. Poe takes it as his duty to rectify the issue.

"I knew him, you know."

"Knew who?" Finn looks at Poe with an unreadable gaze. Poe thinks Finn already knows.

"Kylo Ren." Finn nods, slowly. "I mean, he wasn't always called that, he used to be just Ben, and we weren't really great friends or anything, you know, and he left when he was ten to go train to be a Jedi and all but it's still like… I knew him, and sometimes I remember that kid who used to play at fighter pilots with me, and then I remember that… that… that guy who invaded my mind and wasn't even gentle about it and it's—I don't know how to reconcile the two. How could the one have grown up to become the other?"

Finn's quiet for a beat, and then he chuckles—which, _not_ the reaction Poe was expecting to that admission, that's for sure, and he opens his mouth to say so, but Finn holds up a hand, and Poe closes his mouth again, expectantly tilting his head.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh. I just wonder if that's what they say about _me._ "

Poe tilts his head and tries for a tactful way to ask Finn to elaborate. "Huh?"

"Well, I mean, it's like. I was the… the best. Perfect little Stormtrooper. And now—" Finn gestures outward with a hand. "Not so perfect. How can anyone—how can _I_ reconcile the two?"

There's a million and one questions racing through Poe's mind at the moment—Finn was the best? In what? What did perfect Stormtrooper even entail? How _did_ he break free? _Why_ did he?—but Finn doesn't look like he's currently open for questions, and Poe utilizes all of his self-control to stay silent and let Finn talk. Maybe this will be cathartic for him, as cathartic as Poe's talking about his problems was, and really, why haven't they had a heart-to-heart before now?

"You know how earlier you said that… that it feels like you'll never be free of Ren's mind tricks?" Poe nods. Finn makes a move as if to curl into a ball, but the motion dies as soon as it starts, and Poe wonders which of the two is more telling. "That's what conditioning felt like. Feels like. Like I want to be good, and I want to be a hero, but no matter what I do I always feel all their lessons working on… on the edges, you know? And some days I'm dreaming and I wake up and I feel like I should still be asleep, because I'm not in barracks, because all of this can't be real—like, like chocolate, Poe! They didn't have any chocolate, ever, and it's delicious and you can just get it from the cafeteria and it's _amazing_ and still I… it just always feels like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like any minute now, I'm going to be expected to go back to putting on armor and training and fighting. Even when I'm most happy, that thought is still in the background."

Finn's voice by the end is so broken that Poe wants to cry.  He settles for placing a gentle hand on Finn's shoulder.

"Finn… what exactly did they do to you? With conditioning?"

Finn looks at him, all dark eyes and doubt, his brow furrowed just a little as he laughs deprecatingly. "Are you sure you want to know?"

Poe nods.

Finn doesn't reply right away, but then eventually he starts talking. He tells Poe of a childhood spent already regimented, strict times for learning and how all that learning, all that indoctrination, really, it all went back to how great the Empire had been, how great the First Order was, and how, now that he's here with the Resistance and has access to any history book he likes, he's having to relearn it all. How obedience was drilled constantly, about how Resistance medics had listed off to him a concoction of drugs they'd found in his system afterwards, how they'd been subdivided into squads but owed their ultimate allegiance to Captain Phasma and General Hux. About training drills with his squad and wanting to protect them and being ordered not to, about terminated Stormtroopers and nights spent fervently hoping he wasn't going to be one of them, about the horrors of coming down with anything worse than a cold because medical would assess use versus time spent sick and if the one outweighed the other termination was going to happen. How there'd been machines that could and would alter brain chemistry and make cadets more obedient, more aggressive, more cooperative if need be, how Finn could take one apart and reassemble it with no problems but doesn't have a clue how it works or what it's called.

Throughout it all, they end up moving closer, or maybe that's just Poe, but by the time Finn is winding down, they're hugging, Poe's arms wrapped tightly up around Finn's shoulders and back, Finn curled up and deceptively small against his chest. And then Finn stops talking and he hugs Poe back, and he cries, and Poe just hugs him harder, doubly so when he realizes that he's also crying—for himself or for Finn, for both, he doesn't know, but they sit there together under the biggest tree on the base, crying until the tears stop and hugging all the while.

Finn breaks away first, pulling himself up into what has to be a more comfortable position, though he's still pressed up against Poe. His eyes are red and he's sniffling, but he looks… lighter than he had before. Or maybe Poe's just projecting. He sniffs loudly, too, feeling better than he has in days.

"Sorry for getting your shirt all dirty," Finn says after a while, gesturing sheepishly at the front of Poe's shirt, which is covered in tear stains.

"I don't mind," Poe replies, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve. On a whim, he reaches out and takes Finn's hand, the one closest to him, and gives it a light squeeze. Finn looks at Poe in surprise, then smiles, and squeezes back.

They sit under the tree together for a while yet, but neither of them let go of the other's hand.


	3. inertia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /ɪˈnəːʃə/ - noun - a tendency to do nothing or to remain unchanged

"Poe! Poe!" Poe groans, not because he's being woken up early—actually, no, that's  _ exactly _ why he groans, and if it weren't for the fact that his pillow is being tugged out from under his head—the cruelty,  _ honestly _ —he'd bury his face back into it. As is, he squints one eye open and does his best to glare at the offending waker.

His best is not much at all, because it's  _ Finn _ , and it's been evident to Poe for months now that he's so far gone on the guy that—well, not even  _ Jess _ will make fun of him for it anymore.

“Poe! You  _ promised!  _ C’mon!” 

Poe feels a spike of alarm at that, because kriss, if he’s promised something and  _ forgotten _ about it—and okay, it wouldn’t be the first time, not by a long stretch, but it’s the principle of the matter that would have him feeling guilty as all anything. He bolts upright, almost hitting his head on the bed above his. Finn grins at him, an unbearable happiness that Poe thinks he will never be able to get enough of.

It suddenly hits Poe, what exactly he promised. He grins up at Finn. “Alright, gimme ten to get dressed, I’ll meet you down at the tarmac.”

“Okay… But only ten!” Finn says, calling over his shoulder as he races away, BB-8 hot on his heels. Poe shakes his head, grinning at the exuberance, and proceeds to take exactly ten minutes to get ready (breakfast—and packing lunch—requires another five, and by the time he arrives on the tarmac Finn is pouting, which would be more effective if he hadn’t immediately forgiven Poe when Poe’d held out a slice of bread, prepared with strawberry jam).

“Alright, one joyride to a secret island, coming right up,” Poe says, and Finn shoves the rest of the bread into his mouth as fast as he can before clambering into Black One right behind Poe.

Finn sits in the gunner’s seat—it’s easy, it’s familiar, they must have run hundreds of practice runs by now—Finn had opted for being a gunner; he’d told Poe it was because he’d always been good with weapons but gunning was the only one he’d been taught not by the First Order but by Poe—Poe had been touched for weeks afterwards—and each time they go up, their teamwork improves and sometimes—sometimes it feels like they’ve a connection that surpasses merely working well together. Poe never mentions this to anyone, though, because, again, he’s so far gone on Finn he’s bound to be biased and seeing connections where there aren’t any. 

(This doesn’t mean he can’t hope, though.)

The flight itself is easy and fun—Poe puts Black One through her paces and Finn whoops in all the right moments, and they run the gamut of aerial acrobatics before arriving at their destination. The small island is in the middle of one of D’Qar’s many lakes, barely registering on the map—the only reason that Poe knows of its existence at all is because he discovered it on one of the original scouting missions to the planet, when they were still in the phase of trying to decide where the Resistance base was actually going to be. 

It has expansive beaches and several beautifully shaded groves, as well as a small stream, and Poe and Finn walk through it all after disembarking—walk, and talk, about everything and nothing, and somehow they end up holding hands and Poe thinks—despite everything—despite losses that still sting and physical scars that will never fade and mental scars that are sometimes triggered back into bleeding wounds, he thinks—

_ Life is wonderful. _

 

They stop for lunch, at some point, sitting with their thighs pressed up against each other, trading bites of the sandwiches Poe’d packed because he’d made each of them differently, and once they’re done eating they ignore sound advice, strip to their boxers, and go swimming in the tepid, clear waters—BB-8 chirps at them from the shore, incensed that she’s not able to join in. Inevitably the swimming turns into a splash war and light-hearted wrestling, and soon enough they’re collapsing into the sun-warmed sand, laughing and giggling and Poe is so, so in love. 

He wonders if it shows.

They take a quick nap, and lounge around, occasionally talking but mostly just enjoying each other’s presence, until the sun starts to tinge the sky orange, and they slowly head back to Black One, and for the first time in his life Poe feels something akin to  _ reluctance _ to set foot inside his beloved fighter.

They’re welcomed back to base by Jessika, fiddling on her fighter with blindingly orange overalls, who takes one look at their—probably disheveled, definitely sun-kissed and, in Finn’s case, absolutely glowing—complexion, and rolls her eyes.

“Put yourselves out of misery and just fucking  _ kiss _ already, will you?” she says.

BB-8 trills in apparent agreement. Poe, who’d been holding several things, almost drops them. Finn, who’d been taking a drink of water, sputters, chokes, and then doubles over coughing, at which point Poe really  _ does _ drop his things, immediately batting Finn on the back until Finn’s able to breathe again.

Jess is still rolling her eyes, but Poe robustly ignores her, choosing instead to focus on Finn, who’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, still breathing harshly. Hysterically almost. 

“Finn? You okay?”

Finn looks at Poe, eyes darting to his lips, and then away, and fixates on some invisible bump in the tarmac. Poe looks at Finn for a moment, and quite abruptly— _ fuck this _ —his mind is made up. He places a hand on Finn’s cheek, and Finn leans into it, and slowly his eyes come up to meet Poe’s again and Poe has to fight to keep himself from getting lost, because he could, so easily—he has—but he has other things he wants to do right now, such as—

“Can I kiss you?”

Finn nods, Poe smiles, and then they’re kissing, and it’s better than anything Poe ever dared imagine.

(Later, he finds out that Jess got it all on holovid, and that apparently a rather sizable amount of money was staked on the matter, but Poe’s too happy to care.) 

That night, Finn kisses Poe goodnight, and Poe pulls Finn down into bed with him, and they’re wrapped up in each other and  _ warm _ and  _ good _ and Poe’s last thought before he falls asleep is that—despite everything—

_ Life is wonderful. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! "inertia" refers to their falling in love, ha, it won't change/stop ^^;


End file.
